Golden Filly Collection One (31 page)
“Oh, Trish.” Marge patted her daughter’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
Yeah, I’ll bet.
The words popped into Trish’s mind. Then she scolded herself. It wasn’t as if her mother didn’t care.
“I tried
so
hard.” She ground her teeth together. “And it didn’t do any good.”
“When will you know your grades?”
“Tomorrow.”
Marge nodded. “Are you sure you feel up to your driving test today?”
“Yeah.” Trish took a deep breath. “Mom, I
have
to ride tomorrow. I gave my word.”
“I know. But remember the agreement, nothing below a B. You can ride tomorrow because the grades aren’t posted yet, but don’t accept anything beyond that—until you know.”
Trish groaned.
“And falling asleep in class…” Marge straightened in her seat, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “Your father and I will talk with Mrs. Smith.” She looked at Trish slumped behind the wheel. “How about something to eat before you go in there?”
“Afterwards, okay? I just want to get this over with.”
Trish didn’t need to tell her mother she’d passed the written driver’s test. Her grin said it all when she emerged from the room. “My behind-the-wheel appointment is next Tuesday.” She slid into the driver’s seat. “I can’t believe I got one so soon. They had a cancellation.” She reread her score sheet. “I missed the questions on numbers again—four of them. They all had to do with number of feet and speeds. I
hate
numbers.” She stuffed the sheet into her purse. “Let’s go eat.”
“Mrs. Smith called,” Marge said when Trish came back to the house after working the horses that night. “Our conference is for Monday right after school”
“Me too?”
Marge nodded. “Dinner’s ready.”
Trish started to get ready for bed early that night, resenting the hour she’d spent on history. She felt that if she didn’t do well on that final, it would be another strike against her in Mrs. Smith’s eyes. She glared at her notes.
Reaching to turn out the light, she stared at the open book on her desk. With a groan she threw back the covers, stomped to the desk, and grabbed the book. Propping her pillow against the headboard, she began reviewing—again. She
would
get an A on this one.
Or close to it. When she’d finished the test, only two true-and-false questions were in doubt, and the written part looked good. At the end of the day Trish slammed her locker, and she and Rhonda dashed to the parking lot. Even a mud bath from a sloppy track would be better than the last couple of days. But then, anything to do with horses was better than finals.
“What’d you get in chemistry?” Rhonda leaned on the back of the front seat.
“C minus. One point away from a D.” Trish slumped in the seat. “At least they won’t ground me today. But I’ll have to tell Diego I can’t ride Wednesday.”
“Maybe your mom and dad will change their minds.”
“No.” Trish shook her head. “No chance. And they’re meeting with Mrs. Smith on Monday. I’ll probably have to quit racing on weekdays all together.”
“It’s just not fair.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Your dad coming to watch?” Brad asked.
“I don’t think so. David’s already there to get Final Command ready. My first mount is for Diego.”
Trish rode to win the fourth race. While the pouring rain washed half the mud off her black and white silks, her grin still sparkled. Wet or dry, she loved the winner’s circle.
Final Command fidgeted in the gate. “That’s not like you, fella,” Trish crooned as she stroked his neck. “I know you don’t like the rain, so let’s just get this over with.”
The horse on their right refused to enter the starting stall. It took two assistants to finally get him in. Trish hunched her shoulders to keep the rain from running down her neck. She crouched forward, making herself small, hugging all her body heat close. Mentally she called the stubborn horse every name she could think of.
“If only we were on the outside, boy.” She spoke to her mount’s twitching ears. “But we’re right in the middle.”
And in the middle was where they were six lengths out of the gate. Right in the middle with horses slipping all around them. She felt a bump on one side and pulled back on the reins to get them out of the melee before something happened.
At that moment, she heard the crack of a bat. Her mount leaped forward. They slammed into the horse on their left.
Someone had struck her horse!
P
ure strength of will kept her horse on its feet. Trish ignored the stumbling animals around them and kept her mount’s head up. He slipped in the mud but regained his footing. As the way cleared ahead of them, Trish talked him into running the race. Far ahead the two leaders rounded the turn. One other horse left the pack and ran with her.
Trish brought the animal over to the rail, and as she encouraged him with heart, hands, and voice, they ate up the furlongs. While there was no way to catch the lead runners, she made sure that they took third place. As they raced around the track, her mind returned to the thwap of a bat on
her
mount’s haunches.
“I’m sorry that someone hit you, fella. I know you’re not used to the whip. You don’t need it. But who hit you? And why?”
That was her question to her father that evening. “Why, Dad? Why would someone hit my horse? And who? Who would do such a mean thing? It’s illegal, too, isn’t it?”
“Did you report it?”
“No. I don’t know how. And it was such a mess out there, I…I just wanted to get home.” She leaned even closer to the roaring fire. She wasn’t sure she would ever feel warm again. On the outside anyway. Inside she was hotter than the snapping logs.
“It’s just so unfair!” Sparks from the fire reflected in her eyes.
“Trish, life isn’t fair. Racing isn’t fair. There will always be those who do underhanded things. Those who take advantage of others. Even to the point of cruelty. That’s part of racing. Part of any business.”
“And that’s why I’d rather you weren’t racing.” Marge stepped into the room, handing her daughter a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
“But, M-o-m.”
“One of the horses went down, and it could easily have been you.” She raised her hand to stop Trish’s answer.
“I know you’re a good rider. And I thank God you weren’t injured, that no one was seriously hurt. But accidents happen. And maliciousness. You felt it firsthand.” She turned back to the kitchen. “Dinner’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Set the table, please, Trish, as soon as you finish your chocolate.”
Trish cupped the hot mug in her hands.
“She’s right, you know,” her dad said.
“I know, but…”
“Tomorrow we’ll file a complaint, so you know how.”
“That’s not all.” Trish swirled the remaining cocoa in her mug. “I got a C minus on my chemistry test.”
“I’m sorry, Tee.”
Not half as sorry as I am,
Trish thought as she got up to set the table.
I’m the one who has to tell those men I can’t ride. And that’s gonna shoot down my paycheck for next week.
Trish enjoyed picking up her check each week from the head office at the track. Giving the money to her father made her feel like all the hours she put in made a difference for their family. No matter how much her father grumbled about her not keeping the money, she knew the bills were being paid. And that made his life easier.
“I want to make Dad’s life easier, so he can get well, Father,” she prayed that night. “Thank you for the money, and for keeping me safe.” She snuggled down in the covers. “And please help me find out who whipped us today. Amen.”
When Trish came up from working the horses in the morning, her mother had scrambled eggs with bacon ready to put on the table. She pulled a pan of bran muffins from the oven as Trish slid into her place.
“Those guys were sure rarin’ to go this morning.” Trish rubbed her arms. “I feel like I did a hundred push-ups.”
“How would you know?” David asked. “You’ve never done that many at one time.” He put his plateful of food down on the table. “Thanks, Mom. This smells great.”
Trish stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, you work four horses and see how your arms feel.”
Hal buttered a muffin. “What time do you have to be at the track?”
